{ 2007 }
I never thought I had the cutest face when I was young. I was the one with the freckles (picture quality is low in this picture :p) and who liked to show my scabs to people. Swap sandwiches and hang out at the library. And boys, if they weren't blue eyed and blond, I ran away from them cos they all had germs and smelly uniform. Blue eyed and blond? Your so lucky, I was drooling all over my textbook for you.
And just like that, boom! All my baby teeth knocked out and now with a pair of boobies to call my own, I am hanging out at the library again and swapping sandwiches with my best friend. I look at my best friend, he has one of those laughs which is indicative of those with IQs 145 and above. His eyes are always on the look out (too much gaming) and he gives me directions like '165 SW yo!' and '9 o'clock holymotherofgod!' . He's talking to the person that calls left and right 'this way' and 'that way'.
Though sometimes I am clueless with certain factual directions (blame my daydreaming) in life, I know I am very good at guiding my best friend's heart - especially if I've eaten the last slice of the cake. I tell him he's too chubby and he's got enough meat in his arse. Spare some for my boobies. After he's stopped moping, he holds my hand and we run across pedestrian crossings (NB: I am wearing heels!). Then when he sees me crippled from the pain, he smiles and tells me I always make him feel better and that I can borrow his walking stick anytime.
We share stories about our scabs and make scabs for one another because we are primitive like that. And whenever I start complaining about my face, my best friend puts a big bowl over it. Much better, he always says.
One day, I drooled all over his face while we were in bed. I cried a little bit cos I would no longer have eurasian babies.
That's us. Sandwiches never knew verbal foreplay existed and the library became a mental institution that housed two.
For all the things we could have said. For all the things we didn't do. Time is our greatest nightmare. It's not only about how we categorise the future, or the past, it could simply be all about timing. We live lives with a certain degree of blindness. Blindness to ourselves and to others. Sometimes it's wilful, other times it's not. There is something called selective inattention in psychology. It's about when people avoid consciously thinking about relevant information because it's emotionally upsetting. We all do that in our life don't we? Distract ourselves with other things to avoid the things that need talking about. Stuff that ultimately needs your time. You know humans have always tried to quantify time and say, "I have too much time" or "I have too little time." And truthfully speaking, if we were living life intensely, you wouldn't even think about it. You would do the work that needs to be done. You would be able to eat, have sex and shit and still have time to reflect on nothingness. Then why do we have anxiety?
